Slightly Psychotic
by Princessofthebooks
Summary: In which Sherlock has a younger sister... And, well, she's like him. Just... Slightly psychotic. Johnlock in later chapters, but not really romantic. T for language.


The first time John met Sherlocks' sister was at Buckingham palace.

The two of them had been unexpectedly summoned. Actually, it was always unexpected, but at least Sherlock was dressed this time. Sherlock had taken one look at Mycroft before stating:

"You're expecting another person."

Mycroft glanced up, surprised, though he really shouldn't have been.

"Yes." He admitted.

"Who?" Sherlock asked. It was John's turn to be surprised, Sherlock did have the tendency to know these kinds of things.

Mycroft, actually looked nervous. "Well..." He said, adjusting his collar. "It's almost like a family reunion."

Sherlock stared blankly, before realizing something, at which point he looked slightly scared, then coolly asked, "Are you insane?"

"No," a feminine voice at the door answered. "I'm the insane one in the family."

John turned to look at the girl, well, she was more of a teenager, he supposed. 14, maybe 15?

She had Sherlocks curly hair, except it was down to her shoulders, and appeared like it hadn't been brushed for quite a while. She walked over to the group of them, and John noted with surprise that she was in a hospital robe. She sat down, and looked Sherlock straight in the eyes. Two pairs of eyes that almost matched. Both scanning... Deducing the other. The only difference was that while Sherlock had two blue eyes, she had one blue, and one black. Almost inhuman black.

The girl crossed her legs. "You've made a name for yourself, Sherlock. Quite the consultant detective. Of course, there's no one to compare you to, so perhaps you're horrible at it."

Two guards had taken place on either side of her. The girl redirected her mismatched gaze to john. "Oh," she said politely. "You must be Sherlocks partner. The bachelor, right? My names Elizabeth. And you had really ought to stop shaving in the bathroom at 6 in the morning."

John blinked. "Pardon?"

"Your shave. It starts out clean, on your right side, gradually becoming sloppier until you get downright slovenly on your left side. You were in the army, so a clean shave is clearly important to you, thus logically you would not have such a shave on purpose. I assumed that you must have been using a weak light that was stronger on your right side, exactly like the light at six in the morning during August."

John turned to look at Sherlock. "Astounding. Now there are two of you."

Sherlock looked up, then sat forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.

"Mycroft, what is the meaning of bringing her here?"

"Mother... Decided that we were both old enough to look after Liz, so she signed off custody to us."

"Lock her back up."

Elizabeth looked up at her guards. "See! Can we go now? I was having the most fun reading two month old coffee stained newspapers."

Mycroft sighed. "Not so fast. You can't live your life in a mental institute."

"I've been fine for the past 8 years!"

"Oh great. John and I are stuck with her."

Mycroft nodded once.

"Then we're done here." Sherlock got up, and gestured for John and Liz to follow.

Elizabeth moved into the basement, and John slowly got to know her. She only drank coffee or apple juice, hated dogs, and was Sherlocks younger sister. She was also dead convinced that John was gay, and that he just didn't know it himself yet.

Sherlock barely acknowledged her presence, until one morning. They had been working on a particularly gruesome and confusing case when Sherlock suddenly ran downstairs, and dragged a pajama clad Liz up.

"Did you take your medication yet?" He asked anxiously.

"You woke me up. Do you think I take them in my sleep?" Elizabeth glared at him from behind her mess of black hair.

Sherlock didn't seem to hear her. "Excellent. How long before you start to have auditory hallucinations?"

"Well seeing as I'm already hearing Joel and Amanda, I would say, now."

John exhaled. She had psychosis. It made perfect sense, honestly.

"What about Peter?" Sherlock asked.

"Don't say his name! Oh- oh." She clapped her hands over her ears, and her knees buckled under her as she screamed.

"What does Peter think of these?" Sherlock shoved the pictures of children who were to tortured and killed in front of her face, which John really didn't think she needed right now.

She gasped. "He thinks... He thinks they're funny. He's laughing. Oh! They all were made by a cult. Only explanation. Ha ha. Ha. The cult, oh how pathetic. That's not how it's good. You could keep them alive and conscious during the torture. Like this." Elizabeth grabbed a kitchen knife, then advanced on John.

It should have been funny, a girl in hello kitty pajamas with a knife in her hand. It wasn't.

"It won't hurt a bit." She breathed at him, the scent of mint on her breath. "It will hurt a lot. So bad you will long for death. And it won't come..."

John tried to back up, only to realize that he had been backed into a corner, and Sherlock was offering no assistance. Elizabeth smiled then pointed the blade at his chest, only to send it clattering to the floor. She backed away staring at her trembling hands.

"My god. I'm so so sorry, John. I didn't realize... I didn't know"

John exhaled. "It's okay. I have post traumatic stress disorder, I know what it's like to have a mental illness. It wasn't you."

She grabbed a prescription bottle from the counter, then downed two pills. She bent over the counter before whirling on Sherlock.

"What was that?" Her voice was trembling with rage. "What do you think you're doing?"

Sherlock coolly looked at her. "I was solving a case."

"You are playing with fire. _Don't_ do that again."

"I won't promise. I just saved time, days of it."

"Do I look like a fucking instrument? Something for you to use when you feel like it? I'm a human being! I have a will! I won't do whatever you want whenever you want it! Fuck you!"

"What did you expect from me?"

"I was hoping that somehow you would still posses shreds of the brother I left, the brother who listened to my nightmares, who came to my room when father came home after drinking too much, the 16 year old who took the beatings for his 6 year old sister, even after she tried to kill him. But now.. You aren't him. Do you even feel? I used to have a place in your heart, and now I'm just another experiment, aren't I?"

Sherlock leaned over Elizabeth. "What good did it do? You still were taken away from me, I couldn't protect anything I cared about. Why give others power over me? Loving wouldn't make me strong. It just would destroy me."

John glanced around the room. Seeing as the two of them would probably be arguing for quite a while, and trying to stop them would be pointless, he might as well try to learn about Sherlocks past.

"Why would being destructed for a cause so noble be bad? Besides, you can't fool everyone! You care for John, _don't_ try to tell me you don't. Why am I so different?"

"You were gone for eight years, Elizabeth. A lot of things changed. I don't think you understand what happened after you left."

"Then tell me!" She pleaded. "Tell me what turned you cold, what did I miss? You clearly didn't care too much about me, not enough to visit."

"Father... Overdosed. He nearly murdered me, threw Mycroft down the stairs, then killed himself. Mother just got worse. You have no idea how many times I envied you, then hated myself for it."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

The phone rang, interrupting their argument.

Sherlock grabbed it.

"Hello... Yes... We'll be right there." He hung up.

"There's been another murder. A three year old this time."

"Way to change the subject, Holmes." Elizabeth smirked.

"First of all, you're a Holmes too. Second of all, we solve this case and I'll have so many long discussions about what you missed, you'll wish you never asked."

She grinned. "Let me grab my shoes."

So that was exactly how there came to be three of them running to the murder site, Lizzie still in pajamas.

Sherlock and John filled her in on the case details, and she absorbed all of it. All the while she apologized to John, and he constantly told her that it was alright.

When they arrived at the scene, they were briefly halted before Sarah came to get them.

"Are you the freaks girlfriend?" She asked Elizabeth.

"No. I'm his psychotic sister." Liz grinned demonically. "Grr."

Sherlock made a sound somewhere in between a cough and a chuckle, and John realized he was trying to hold back a laugh and only halfway succeeding.

"Gotcha." She said, pushing her way past them to look at the victim.

Almost needless to say, they solved the case, and Elizabeth terrified almost everyone in the force. Sherlock started to accept her, and soon she was as vital to him as John was. One time, John actually had seen them hugging, though both denied it ever happening. Life was good.

**AND THATS A WRAP, FELLOW SHERLOCKIANS. PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW, TELL ME ANY THING. WELL. NOT ANYTHING, BUT... QUESTIONS, COMMENTS, CONCERNS.**

**I DONT OWN ANYTHING BUT ELIZABETH**

**LOVE, **

**KAYLA**


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